


Pull Me In Deep

by alexenglish



Category: One Direction (Band), The Voice (Ireland) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pornstars, Size Difference, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 13:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16811470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: Niall hates scripted videos, Bressie is accommodating, and they bang it out. Pornstar AU.





	Pull Me In Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhinemaiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhinemaiden/gifts).



> so this was highkey inspired by Grace's tags on [this post](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/180610866232/actualhumansunshine-nogherkins) but didn't really... turn out like the tags on this post! also I don't feel like this accurately falls into the roleplay tag, but I didn't want to leave the dynamic untagged just in case. I have no idea if this is any good, so I hope it doesn't disappoint!

The worst part is definitely the _talking_.

Niall can fuck a stranger for hours a day with a camera in his face and crotch, but once they shove a script in his face it’s over. Short intros are fine, and he’d be a filthy liar if he said he doesn’t talk it up when he does cam shows. But whole scenes of dialogue before the actual sex? Miserable.

The secondhand embarrassment is pretty bad, first off. Secondly, this is his first shoot with Bressie, and he’s the most nervous he’s ever been about a scene.

Aside from being one of the studio’s veteran stars, Bressie is one of the biggest hit grabbers on the site. Niall has seen all of his videos -- for research, of course. He’s as big as a goddamn mountain, with a perfectly proportional cock. Niall has a porn cock, but Bressie _invented_ porn cocks.

It’s all very intimidating.

The stylist wants to know if he’s talked to Bressie yet, but Niall can’t really say _yes_. Earlier, when Bressie tried to say hello, he startled Niall so badly Niall dumped tea on himself and turned to go change his shirt without acknowledging Bressie’s apology. By the time he was out, Bressie had disappeared to wardrobe.

So, no. He hasn’t talked to Bressie. He just embarrassed himself in front of Bressie, and he’s going to embarrass himself further by acting out a _scene_ with Bressie.

Everyone can tell he’s nervous. The director keeps shooting him _looks_ , and he’s pretty sure the crew is gossiping, and Bressie is watching him with far too much interest. It’s not helping his anxiety.

Summoning up every bit of bravado he has, he manages to smile at Bressie. Bressie immediately smiles back, like that’s what he was waiting for.

Maybe it was.

They’re ordered onto set then, one of the generic office ones that’s been revamped to look like it might belong to a college professor. A college professor that has a fetish for all things naval themed; there are beach paintings, and anchor decorations, and an honest-to-god ship in a bottle.

The prop department must have gone yard sale scavenging recently. Niall kind of hopes the bottle breaks during the part of the scene where Bressie’s sweeps everything off the desk to fuck Niall on top of it.

“You okay?” Bressie asks, right behind him.

Niall yelps and spins around. They’re standing a lot closer than Niall thought they would be. He tips his head up to look at Bressie’s face properly, feeling himself flush.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Niall says, shrugging. He puts some space between them, trying not to be awkward about it. “Just getting a feel for it while the lights are goin’ up.” He gestures towards the crew loosely. They’re still doing test shots and adjusting lamps, there’s time to kill.

He thinks that’s pretty straight forward, but Bressie’s just staring at him.

“I didn’t know you were Irish,” Bressie says, with a little shake of his head. A wicked grin blooms on his face, pleased to death.

Oh, right. “Yeah, the American accent’s just for the viewers,” Niall says, far too aware of his tongue now that Bressie mentioned how he talks. “Bit of separation.”

“Fair play,” Bressie replies. “I’d probably go that route, if my American accent wasn’t totally shite.”

“Well, lucky for me. Can’t have y’ stealing me gimmick.”

“S’not a gimmick if no one knows you’re Irish, mate,” Bressie says laughing.

Niall is about to argue that plenty of people have _met_ him, and he doesn’t do the accent at events, but the director is waving them down, signalling it’s time to start. Bressie winks at Niall as he takes his spot behind the desk, slouching in his chair.

It doesn’t go well.

It’s the smallest thing, but he keeps fucking it up. Bad delivery, shaky voice, hesitant. Bressie seems fine. He pauses for Niall, tries to cue, but Niall keeps thinking about how bright the lights are, and whether or not he’s going to be able to get hard being this anxious, and how this is going to _suck_ in the final cut. He can’t get it together.

His “character” (who doesn’t even have a name, it’s so irrelevant) is supposed to be some cocky rich boy type who tries to bribe his professor for a good grade, and ends up earning it bent over the professor’s desk. Unfortunately, Niall is the _opposite_ of cocky.

Right when Niall thinks the director might throw something at him, Bressie calls for a break.

“Y’seem nervous,” he says kindly. There’s a half of a smile on his face that is very encouraging, which almost makes things worse. “You’ve done this before, where’s your head at?”

“I’m not great with lines,” Niall admits, trying not to fidget. They’re not talking loudly, but there’s no other noise in the room, so Niall knows everyone is listening. “The acting is gettin’ to me.”

“There’s a bit in some of your videos,” Bressie says reasonably, and Niall’s entire body goes white-hot at the idea that Bressie has seen _his_ videos. “Is it ‘cause this is bigger? More pressure?”

“Yeah,” Niall says quickly, swallowing thickly. A big hand lands on his shoulder, thumb rubbing reassuringly over Niall’s collarbone.

Turning to the director, Bressie asks, “Can we work with that?”

“Can we?” the director echoes. She jerks her chin at Niall. “I think that’s up to him.”

“We can play up nerves.” Bressie looks at Niall again. His hand hasn’t moved away, yet. “I know you’re supposed to be an arrogant frat boy, but it might work better if you’re afraid to ask. Like, y’ really need this, and could get rejected. All that cliche shite.”

“I can definitely do that,” Niall says. “Don’t have to act, really.”

“Thank god,” mutters the director, just loud enough that the entire room can hear her.

Niall scowls, but Bressie’s hand moves up to the back of his neck, demanding his attention. A shiver runs down his spine as Bressie squeezes reassuringly.

“It’ll be fine,” Bressie says. “Just do what feels natural.”

What feels natural is climbing into Bressie’s lap and grinding on him whilst they make negotiations for the price of a good grade. Professor Bressie says a handjob earns Niall a C; a blowjob -- predictably -- earns him a B; and if Bressie can bend Niall over his desk and fuck him until he’s screaming, Niall will get an A.

Bressie says it in a low voice, big hands resting on Niall’s hips as he guides the way Niall is rubbing off against his thigh; little pushes and pulls that takes the control away from Niall in the best way.

The glasses they put on Niall are fogging up, tie hanging loose and crooked, and Niall is so turned on he might die.

It’s not always like this. He has fun most of the time -- he _likes_ sex, that’s why he does what he does -- but between the set up, and the lights, and the sound boom looming so close to them, it’s usually more thinking than doing. But Niall is so in the moment with Bressie, he’s startled when the director calls cut.

Niall climbs off Bressie reluctantly, shaking out his legs. The chair is narrow with hard arm rests, forcing Niall into an uncomfortable crouch. He’s half hard in his trousers. It’s satisfying to see Bressie isn’t in any better shape.

“Alright?” Bressie asks, as make up comes to pat the sweat off his face and apply as much matte foundation as they dare to keep him from shining too much.

“Yeah, like this set up better anyway,” Niall says. “Everyone likes the doe-eyed blonde routine.”

“How about you?”

“Don’t mind it,” Niall admits, with a smile, ducking his head to avoid his blush being obvious when Bressie smiles back at him sweetly.

They reset and take it from the top. The awkward entrance where Niall knocks on the door almost too softly to be heard. Bressie gruffly telling him to come in, looking up from the papers he’s supposedly grading.

He’s dismissive with Niall at first and Niall leans into that, letting the way Bressie already intimidates him drive his body language. No false bravado here, just awkward slouching and non stop fidgeting with his book bag straps.

Up until the proposition, Niall is mostly off script while Bressie’s lines stay the same. No, he will not help Niall, Niall is the one who is missing classes. He can barely turn in a paper, how does he expect to get in enough extra credit to keep himself from the D he deserves?

Niall is learning so much about the American rubric on this shoot.

Then comes the proposition, and Bressie’s attitude shifts between uninterested to interested with a raised eyebrow and a devastating smirk.

The breath Niall takes is audible like he’s bracing himself before he goes around the side of desk, touching Bressie hesitantly. Bressie touches him back, big hand sliding up his side and pulling him closer.

Niall’s heart starts to pound, pulse filling up his ears as he complies, straddling Bressie’s thigh so they can have the conversation about what sexual favors earn him what.

Bressie’s hands don’t stop moving, don’t stop winding him up. Gentle strokes over his rib cage, his hips, his low back. They slide under Niall’s crumpled button up, and Niall _shivers_.

The nerves have almost evaporated, leaving pure excitement behind in their wake, but it’s easy to pretend he’s surprised when Bressie palms his arse, pulling him in even closer.

“Do I get a kiss?” Bressie asks, voice rough and teasing.

 _Yes_. “Does that count toward my grade?” Niall asks. He wants it so badly his lips are tingling, but he waits.

“It can,” Bressie says quietly, nudging Niall’s cheek with his nose. Niall acts flustered, turning his head into his shoulder shyly. Bressie’s hands go tight on his hips, holding him. “I think it’ll help you relax.”

Niall bites his lip, watches the way Bressie immediately tracks the movement. “I’ve never kissed a guy before,” he simpers.

It’s terrible, but Bressie’s eyes go dark anyway, face hungry. He slides his hand up Niall’s side, up his neck to press a thumb to his thundering pulse before sweeping over his bottom lip; a barely-there touch that makes Niall ache.

Tongue sweeping out, Niall licks the rough pad of Bressie’s thumb, setting his teeth to it before he sucks the tip into his mouth. Bressie stares at him, slack-jawed, fucking his thumb in and out of Niall’s mouth with a low groan.

“Yeah, take it,” he says hotly. Niall moans in response, high and needy.

Bressie grabs Niall around the waist and stands, hauling Niall up. It’s so unexpected Niall squeaks, arms going tight around Bressie’s neck even though he trusts Bressie not to drop him. As if to prove the point, he holds Niall up with one arm, and pushes everything off the desk.

Papers, and pens, and books go flying, clattering to the floor. The ship in a bottle lands with a hard thud, not breaking even in the slightest. It’s so loud, Niall is expecting a cut call for the sound, but the crew doesn’t interrupt as Bressie dumps Niall on the desk and cages him in with his arms.

Bressie is huge, looming over Niall, making him feel so much more delicate than anyone else ever has.

“Didn’t get my kiss,” Niall says petulantly, tipping his chin up for one. Tension twists around them, Niall is so ready to get to the naked part of the porn.

“Maybe if you’re good,” Bressie replies cheekily, grinning down at Niall. He leans in anyway, only to press his lips to Niall’s neck. A kiss, a nip, and a tiny suck that drive Niall mad.

“I’ll be so good,” Niall promises, wiggling a bit, realizing there needs to be a lot less clothing if they’re going to get anything more than teasing done today. Post-production is going to have to cut like ten minutes of this shit before they find useable material.

(Which doesn’t actually bother Niall. Maybe they could do an extended cut.)

Leaning up as much as he can, Niall shoves Bressie’s blazer off his shoulders. They really went the extra mile with Bressie’s wardrobe today, too many fucking layers.

“I can usually appreciate a good waistcoat, but you’re wearing too many fuckin’ clothes,” Niall tells Bressie.

Bressie lets out a delighted laugh and leans back to work on his buttons. Niall knocks his hand away and does it for him, delighted when a pleased smile blooms across Bressie’s face.

“You can ‘appreciate a good waistcoat,’ and you claim to be straight.”

Niall forgets they’re not themselves, and almost defends himself against the implication, affronted. Luckily he catches it before he fucks up the scene, pretending to be flustered.

“I’m learning all sorts of things about myself,” he says, eyes dropping to the obvious bulge in the front of Bressie’s slacks. The back of his mouth has gone soft and wet with spit, he wants to suck Bressie so badly. “Like, I think I’d like to blow you.”

He makes his eyes all wide and bites his lip as he looks up at Bressie.

“I’m sure you’ll ace it,” Bressie says, framing the length of his cock with his hands, pulling the fabric tight and stroking himself. He’s long, and thick, and Niall is _aching_ for it.

Niall ends up on his back with his head nearly hanging off the desk whilst Bressie fucks his throat with measured strokes.

“Takin’ it so well,” Bressie says, big hand covering the front of Niall’s neck gently, rubbing over the bulging outline of his cock as he thrusts it down Niall’s throat. “You were made to suck cock, love.”

Despite the thrill Bressie’s praise gives him, Niall can’t keep it up for long, ends up getting spit everywhere and tears in his eyes and too claustrophobic to handle. Bressie seems to know exactly when to let up -- pulling out until Niall is suckling on the head, letting Bressie drag his prick over his tongue lightly, showing the camera Niall’s wet, used mouth.

“You’re so fucking good,” Bressie tells him, after Niall is upright once again. Bressie cups the back of his head, twists his fingers in Niall’s hair, and kisses him so fiercely he forgets how to breathe. “So fucking good,” Bressie repeats, tugging Niall’s head back so he can nip and suck at Niall’s throat again.

It’s sore when his lips press just hard enough. Niall whimpers and whines and squirms.

Bressie’s hands work quickly to unbutton Niall’s shirt, but apparently his impatience wins. Buttons pop and go flying as he tears the shirt off the rest of the way, and Niall laughs out loud. It twists into a low groan when Bressie starts kissing down his chest.

He’s so sensitive, he wants this so badly.

It’s impossible to keep quiet. He keeps moaning, and gasping, and cursing as Bressie sucks marks into his skin. He shoves his hips up impatiently, earning a disapproving glare from Bressie in response.

“Whoops?” Niall says, lightly, biting his lip again. It seems to be weakness for Bressie; he’s exploiting it.

“Cheeky,” Bressie says, but he does exactly what Niall wants him to. He gets Niall’s belt open and shoves his trousers down, tossing them behind him before dragging Niall to the edge of the desk.

Niall’s legs go tight around Bressie’s waist as he’s lifted once again. There’s a hand down the back of his pants, teasing his crack lightly before petting over his hole.

“Already loose for me,” Bressie says, satisfaction in every word. “Did y’ try to get yourself ready?”

“Is that okay?” Niall asks. Trying to revert back to that hesitate student when all he wants to do is ride Bressie into the floor is _difficult_ , but he manages. “I didn’t know what you’d want from me.”

“But you guessed,” Bressie says, rubbing over Niall’s hole, slipping the tip of his finger in.

Niall whines, back arching as he buries his face in Bressie’s chest, embarrassed by how desperate he feels; aching deeply in a way that makes him crave that _full_ feeling. He wants Bressie’s thick fingers in him, and then he wants Bressie’s cock, and he wants them _now_.

“ _Please_.”

“Right here?” Bressie asks, slipping more of his thick finger inside, second one nudging against Niall’s rim teasingly. “Fuck you right on this desk, bend you over and _take you_?”

Niall moans in agreement, high and loud, and then Bressie’s fingers are gone completely. “Fuck,” Niall whines as Bressie pulls his hands out of Niall’s pants.

“Patience,” Bressie says. He’s grinning as he holds Niall up with one arm, getting his belt undone with the other. There’s a loud clatter as he pulls it out and tosses that on the ground as well.

“C’mon,” Niall says encouragingly. He grinds his cock against Bressie’s abs. It’s stupid hot to look at -- the head of Niall’s drooling prick peeking out of his waistband, smearing precum on Bressie’s hairy stomach. He’s been trying to ignore how hard he is, but he’s too far gone. “Need your cock, Professor, _please_. I just want you inside me.”

Bressie shoves his trousers and pants down his thighs, and rubs his cock over Niall’s crack. The pants dull the sensation; Niall has never been more mad that he’s wearing pants in his entire life.

“Never been fucked, but you’re desperate for it,” Bressie says, when Niall humps his hips forward once again. “Desperate to be filled up, stretched around my cock.”

“Want you so badly,” Niall agrees, voice high and needy, and at this point he’s _barely_ acting. He wants Bressie to fuck him so badly. He loves when he wants to fuck a co-star like this, it makes it so much better -- and so much worse when they draw it out, making Niall suffer. “Fuck. _Please_.”

“Such a slut,” Bressie says fondly, thrusting his hips up.

Niall whimpers, stomach fluttering. He likes that, likes the way Bressie says it. Likes how nice Bressie sounds as he’s saying it.

Bressie dumps Niall on the desk once again. The wood hitting his boney arse barely even registers, he’s too excited by the way Bressie’s tugging off his pants, leaving him mostly naked. He knows he looks like a mess; red all over, ripped and ruined button up, glasses all askew, dick out.

He looks like a desperate college kid about to get shagged by his unbelievably large, unbelievably _fit_ professor, and he’s really fucking feeling it.

The director calls cut.

Niall’s whole body gives up, falling back against the desk as the director calls for the lube and close-up light.

There’s a big hand around his cock, helping him stay hard. When Niall picks his head up, Bressie is grinning down at him with one hand on Niall’s cock and the other on his own.

“I’m going to fuckin’ bust,” Niall admits, groaning roughly when Bressie gives the base of his cock a hard squeeze to hold him off. It’s thoughtful, actually. Niall picks his head up to bat his eyelashes at Bressie. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Keep callin’ me that, and I’ll bust,” Bressie says, giving his own cock the same treatment.

“I know,” Niall says, cheeky and self-satisfied. He’s seen Bressie’s kink videos, he _knows_.

“You’re a brat, aren’t ye?” Bressie says, but he still sounds so fond. Like maybe he likes that about Niall.

There’s an assistant with lube next to them, and a look on her face like she doesn’t get paid enough to sit and listen to them flirt when they need to get rolling again. Bressie gives her a sheepish smile, and holds at his hand.

When she frowns at him, he says, “I’ll hide it. Just want to get him prepped meself. I like feeling useful.” He turns to Niall, winking as the assistant tosses the bottle at him and goes to tell the director.

“This is very useful,” Niall says, as Bressie smears lube all over his fingers and Niall’s hole. His breath catches a bit as Bressie pushes two in right away. It hasn’t been that long since he got himself ready, but Bressie’s fingers are thick and long.

“Ah, _shit_ ,” Niall hisses, reaching up to grab at the edge of the desk as Bressie carefully opens him up. More careful than he needs to be, but it’s getting Niall wound up properly again, so he doesn’t mind at all.

“So good,” Bressie says gently. Apparently it’s not a character thing, it’s just a _Bressie_ thing. The look on his face is so approving, Niall feels hot all over, fully satisfied by those two words.

Niall just wants to get fingered until he comes all over his stomach, but Bressie pulls out way too soon, wiping his hand on Niall’s discarded pants before putting them right back where they were -- for the sake of set consistency.

He tosses the bottle out of frame, and gives Niall’s cock a cheeky tug that makes him inhale sharply.

“Ready?” the director calls, sound exasperated. “Sitting up, Niall.”

Right, sitting.

Bressie helps with that too, hauling him up.

The scene gets called, the cameras start rolling, and Bressie immediately dives in for a kiss. Their noses hit hard, knocking Niall’s glasses sideways. Bressie laughs and pulls away; the way he takes them off with such care and puts them down immediately makes Niall five times more horny.

They manage to get the kiss right when they come back to it. Slick, and deep, and so intense Niall’s head spins.

Bressie’s touching him with so much more intent now. Hand wrapping around Niall’s throat lightly before sliding down to rub at his nipples, tugging them to hardness until they’re sore and Niall is squirming.

His dick is _so_ hard, and getting no attention.

Bressie must be able to sense it, wrapping his hand around Niall’s cock and wanking him slowly as he pulls Niall in until his arse is on the edge of the desk. palm hot on Niall’s sweaty low back.

“Gunna fuck you so well,” Bressie growls, kissing him harder.

He lays Niall out again, making a show of getting Niall’s legs in the air. He tells Niall to grab the edge of the desk, and Niall obeys.

“This might hurt, babe,” Bressie says as he starts pushing in, for the sake of the cameras.

He can handle it, he knows he can, but Niall still feels winded as Bressie inches into him. Short shallow thrusts that work him open so, so slowly. Niall is blinking against the overhead light, trying to keep his face as slack and happy as possible.

“You’re so big,” Niall simpers, panting and moaning as Bressie’s strokes get longer and harder, cock heavy and thick inside of him.

“Can barely get meself inside you,” Bressie teases, pushing Niall’s legs up so his knees are by his head. “Such a tight little hole.”

Folding Niall in half is what does the trick. Once he’s fully seated, Bressie leans into Niall and smirks at him, hips snapping forward.

Niall nearly shouts, nearly losing his grip on the desk, scooting up a bit, wood sticking to his sweaty back. Bressie pulls him back down and pounds into him relentlessly, Niall’s cock bouncing between them, hard and sore and neglected.

He doesn’t want to come though, not anytime soon. The stretch of Bressie’s cock inside him is so delicious, he’s nearly delirious with it. He doesn’t know what his face is doing anymore, and he doesn’t care.

There’s no way to keep quiet, every thrust of Bressie’s cock ripping noises from him, all the air in his lungs caught hard in his throat so he’s barely breathing -- just whimpering and squirming and trying to keep his grip on the desk even though every thrust is pushing him up again.

The next time Bressie pulls back, he hauls Niall up with him. Anyone else would need a wall to keep Niall up, but Bressie just grabs him around the waist and keeps fucking into him, moving Niall up and down on his cock.

They’re close enough to kiss each other, so Niall grabs Bressie by the back of his neck and hauls him in.

Eventually, Niall gets put down and spun around, bent over the desk with his ass out. Bressie drops to his knees and eats Niall out with enthusiasm, scraping Niall’s cheeks raw with his stubble, getting him wet again. Once there’s spit running from his hole and down his sack, Bressie stands and shoves Niall’s face into the desk and fucks into him again.

They do a few positions over the desk. Niall’s leg up, giving the camera the perfect view of his hole while Bressie’s cock disappears into him. Standing on tiptoes with his back arched, and his head tipped back onto Bressie’s chest, Bressie’s hand holding the front of his throat like a goddamn tease.

Bressie’s mouth is filthy the entire time. Every cliche, terrible line coming out of it is unbearably sexy when it’s him saying it. Niall stays wound up simply from hearing Bressie’s deep, rough voice talk about creaming his arse and licking it out afterwards.

They fuck on the chair, and against the door, and Niall does get to ride Bressie on the floor -- but by then his arse and thighs are sore, and he’s tired as hell so Bressie tugs him down for a kiss, planting his feet and picking Niall up by his hips to do all the work.

When they finally have enough position changes and close ups and dirty talk to make a sizeable video, Niall gets to come. He has to prop himself up with the desk, knees nearly buckling as Bressie’s sucks him off, mouth wicked and perfect.

Bressie pulls off with a grin, licking at his plush bottom lip. He gives Niall a soft kiss that tastes like come, and pushes Niall to his knees to return the favor.

When Bressie comes, he holds Niall by the hair and jerks off onto his face.

It’s actually a relief when they call cut. Niall sits on his arse and waits for a towel. It’s Bressie who grabs it from the PA, holding Niall’s jaw gently and wiping his face off carefully.

Niall’s nervous again, now that they’re not filming. The shagging part is easy, but Bressie’s grinning at him, both of them mostly naked, and Niall can feel himself starting to blush again. He’s probably still red, so hopefully Bressie can’t tell.

Bressie is really red too, sweaty and flushed and unfairly good looking.

“Alright?” he asks, handing Niall the pair of pants that the PA had brought him.

Niall stands to put them on, but his legs are pure jello. Bressie saves him from toppling over by a hand on his hip. He’s still on his knees, smiling up at Niall, and it’s almost enough to get Niall hard again.

“Perfect,” Niall croaks, throat dry and rough. “That was good.” He uses Bressie’s shoulder to balance as he pulls on his pants, tries not to think about Bressie’s warm hand around his ankle and the way his thumb skates over the bone there.

“That was fuckin’ _great_ ,” Bressie agrees, standing once Niall is dressed.

The crew is standing around, messing around on phones and chatting while the director looks at the playback, checking to see if they need to reshoot anything.

“I dunno if I can go again,” Niall says, jerking his chin towards the laptop she’s leaning over. “‘M completely off me arse. Exhausted, like.”

“Already?” Bressie teases.

“Like you’re not?” Niall snorts. He knows for a fact Bressie is more physically fit than he is, but every single one of his muscles is achy. Good achy, but still achy. All the lifting and holding and thrusting Bressie did can’t have been easy.

“I could probably go all night with you, little,” Bressie says, winking.

“You’re impossible,” Niall says, hoping his face doesn’t betray how pleased he is by Bressie’s words. If Bressie’s grin is anything to go by, it probably does. Niall can’t help himself, he always gets soft and agreeable when he’s fucked out. Apparently that means it’s harder to hide his giant crush on his co-star.

“Want to grab a drink?” Niall asks, feeling bold for the first time pretty much all day.

It’s worth it for the way Bressie’s smile gets impossibly wider. “Are you propositioning me, Niall?”

“We already shagged,” Niall laughs. “Might as well get to know each other.”

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/180709005477/pull-me-in-deep-for-bigshot-knockedout-and-the)


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